


Hit You Up

by Caradee



Series: Mafia Verse [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, guns and voilence, hitman - Freeform, mafia au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caradee/pseuds/Caradee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier is the head boss of one of the world's biggest Mafias. Erik Lehnsherr is his right hand man and lover. </p>
<p>This is their life both past and present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit You Up

**Author's Note:**

> This story is born from the fact that I've been watching and obsessing over Katekyo Hitman Reborn for the last year. So a few things... 
> 
> 1) The world Mafioso and Mafiosi are used to describe the Mafia. Don't be alarmed, also I don't know much Italian soooo...
> 
> 2) The boss' of the Xavier Mafia are referred to by generation. 1st boss, 2nd boss, and so on. Charles is the 10th boss. (roman numeral X)
> 
> 3) The 9th boss in my head is Charles Xavier from the movies. This is where there is a bit of a time loop but I don't even care- hope you guys don't as well. 
> 
> 4) This fic jumps between past and present fair warning. 
> 
> Whew, hope that's everything. Enjoy!

  
  
The mansion in Westchester, New York was by no means the biggest establishment owned by the Xavier family. The real castle was tucked away in England, taking up nearly 50 acres of land, with hundreds more stretching out into the country side. The building in England was where Erik grew up, where he trained and which he would forever faithfully call headquarters.  
  
Westchester Mansion was home, though. With its velvet colored rugs, and narrow empty hallways. The building held at least a hundred rooms, even though barely twenty people lived there. In a lot of ways, it could be considered _too_ big, but they put the old building to good use.  
  
He ran into no one as he walked through the North Wing, which was to be expected. At the end of the hallway, though, he stepped into the large familiar lounge area and saw Angel sitting at a pristine desk that easily overshadowed her small frame.  
  
As always, Angel hadn’t gotten the memo of how to dress appropriately when working as a secretary. Her shoulders were bare and a tight corset top pushed her boobs into view, while her long black hair hung over her shoulders. Behind the desk, Erik assumed she was wearing her usual skin-tight pants and black boots.  
  
At his entrance she looked up and beamed, “He’ll be happy to see you.”  
  
In reply Erik tapped the manila folder in his hands and continued towards the doors at the far end of the room, though a small smile tugged at his lips at what the secretary had said.  
  
On the other side of the door was an office that was far too large and way too unfurnished. Charles had complained numerous times in the past about the room. Saying how it made him feel small and unwelcome. But Erik had denied him the request to bring in three or four bookshelves.  
  
“ _You’ll never get any work done, just read all day,”_ he had said, and Charles had just huffed at being caught in the act and put up no more of a fight.  
  
As soon as the door opened, a head snapped up from its resting place on a desk even bigger then Angel’s “small” work table. Charles Xavier, the Tenth Boss of the Xavier Family Mafia, looked desperately relieved at the sight of his right-hand man and head body guard.  
  
“Erik...” his voice drew out the name in an exasperated sigh, showing every inch of the man’s emotions. Erik always told him he needed to stop wearing his heart on his sleeve, but it was just a part of Charles’ personality that would never be etched out. Even in their line of business, that showed no mercy to soft hearts.  
  
Erik quickly closed the door behind him, with just a wave of his hand. His powers allowed him to secure the door without even pausing on his way towards the desk. He watched as Charles straightened up in his chair and began to smooth out the stack of papers in front of him, as if he had been doing work. As always, Charles was dressed in a fine suit, it was overkill for a normal day of paperwork but expected. His hair was still a mess, a couple inches too long and tufting up into soft waves.  
  
“Working hard, or hardly working Charles?” Erik asked, giving his charge a steady look.  
  
Charles didn’t even look ashamed as he shrugged his shoulders. “I hate being in here, you know that. And this tie, it’s driving me nuts.” He tugged at the offending tie - bright blue like his eyes – to show his discomfort.  
  
Erik merely hummed in reply and placed the folder in his hand on the desk. “I have reports from my trip in France, and Intelligence came in today from Virginia.”  
  
The message came across loud and clear as Charles wordlessly grabbed the folder and started flipping through it. “What are our dear friends from the CIA up to?”  
  
“Nothing good,” Erik answered with a definite snort. “They’re still trying to trail our banks, figure out where our money comes from. On top of that, one of the agents is trying to get a team together to do surveillance on the mansion.”  
  
“Why do they insist on making so much trouble?” Charles asked, though he sounded utterly bored and uninterested in what Erik had to say.  
  
The taller man gritted his teeth at the sight and picked his next words carefully. “Generally, being a _Mafioso_ means federal agents don’t like you.”  
  
Charles grunted at that and blinked blankly at the records. Clearly not reading them. “Agent MacTaggert seems to like me.”  
  
“Charles…”  
  
Clucking his tongue, Charles straightened up in his chair and snapped the folder shut. Erik frowned at the move, about to reprimand the man in front of him about the duties of the boss, when Charles turned and pulled out his most valuable weapon.  
  
His smile.  
  
“Erik my friend, what do you say to a sparring match?”  
  
Erik had to take a moment to collect his thoughts. Despite being a small, bookworm of a man, his Charles was a strategist. A sneak, wielding his quick mind with lethal skill. He knew Erik would never turn down a spar. He also knew that Erik hated leaving him to the horrors of paperwork more then anyone else, but the work wasn’t going to do itself…  
  
 _You can always brief me about it later,_ Charles’ clear voice rang in Erik’s head. Suggestive and lusty as it added, _in the bedroom._  
  
He had to struggle not to show how tempting the offer was. Either on his face or in the fleeting thoughts of the mind. Charles didn’t often use his telepathy to rifle through his bodyguard’s mind, following some strange code of ethics Erik had only witnessed among the telepaths in the Xavier family, but still the Tenth boss of the Xavier line enjoyed a mental conversation every now and then. And as his right-hand man, Erik could only oblige him the pleasantry.  
  
“That needs to be signed and heading to England tomorrow,” he stated, pointing at the folder while sending Charles a mental agreement to a sparring match.  
  
The brunette's voice sang its praises in his head while the man stood up eagerly from the desk. “Consider it done,” beamed Charles, his face promising Erik an agreement to anything as long as the hitman took him out of the office.  
  
“Lead the way, Xavier.”  
  
\---  
  
The first time Erik met the future boss of the Xavier family _mafiosi,_ he was livid.  
  
The kid - because that was what Charles Xavier was at the age of 21 compared to Erik’s 26 - had appeared at the Estate dressed in baggy cardigans and khakis, nothing like how the future heir of the Xavier family should present himself. He was loaded down with briefcases and bags, and his owlish blue eyes were red-rimmed and tired.  
  
To Erik, the boy was just a sniveling scholar who probably had never held a gun before in his life. Let alone kill a man.  
  
It had been him - in his enraged state - who escorted Charles to the Ninth Boss’s room. The conversation had been sparse: Charles tried, but Erik clamped his lips shut and only answered in short clipped words. Eventually the scholar had gotten the message and clammed up. Surprisingly Erik hadn’t felt the buzz of the other’s brain touch his as he would have expected, being in the presence of a young telepath and all. Charles clearly had the same morals as his grandfather instilled in him - but even that wasn’t enough for Erik to budge on his standards.  
  
It had been Erik who waited outside the Ninth’s room, watching a private family moment as Charles gingerly took the chair beside his grandfather’s bed and took the older man’s hand. Neither man told the young hitman to leave, so it was there he stayed. Quietly brooding while the two talked out loud about family things, while mentally discussing more pressing matters.  
  
To be honest, even though Erik knew Charles was family and would someday be the head of the family -- someone he would have to put his life on the line for -- he absolutely did not trust the boy alone with his boss. The man who Erik considered more of a grandfather than Charles ever did. That he was sure of.  
  
While Charles Xavier had been attending private boarding schools and traveling the world - living a sickeningly normal life - Erik had lived in the shadows. Being a hitman was in his blood. He only had vague memories of his parents. Father always holding at least two guns on his person, and his mother - not involved in the family business, but armed to the teeth as well.  
  
The Lehnsherr family members didn’t work for just one _mafioso_. They were freelancers, taking jobs only from the best of the best and with no talk of alliances on the table. Erik hadn’t even met any other extended members of his family. Everyone was scattered, living underground and in the shadows.  
  
The one thing he was sure of from his vague past was that his mother and father had been assassinated. His father apparently had been too good at his job, wielding the powerful family mutation of manipulating metal. Another group hired the hit, and when he was just seven, Erik was orphaned.  
  
In shock, he was shuffled from safe house to safe house. Surrounded by strangers who claimed to have his best interest in mind. Erik knew now that at any moment those strangers could have been assassins and could easily have tricked him. He had been too gullible, too trusting. The world wasn’t kind to people who thought like children.  
  
Eventually along the line of strangers who took him in, he fell into the hands of an elderly man in red. A man whom others referred to as “Magnus”, and Erik heard whispers of the word “grandfather.”  
  
He didn’t call the man either of those names. There was no time, before Magnus looked at him with a steely gaze, then swept him away to another safe house. That house turned out to be a castle, and that castle belonged to the Xavier family.  
  
Magnus disappeared after a brief meeting with the Ninth Boss, during which Erik was told to wait outside. He felt no emotions as he watched the older man - possibly his grandfather - stalk away, cape blowing dramatically behind him. He felt numb when the Ninth’s gentle hand fell on his shoulder and the strange man said, “Erik, it’s very nice to meet you.”  
  
“You don’t have to lie. It’s not nice. I know in a couple days I’m going to go somewhere new, right?”  
  
“Oh, Erik,” and Erik would always remember the sad look in the older man’s deep blue eyes and the first brush of a steady mind sweeping his own. Erik’s body jerked back at the touch, but the hand on his shoulder kept him in place.  
  
“Erik, you’re not going anywhere. This is your home from now on.”  
  
The mind touching his own tried to convey its sincerity almost desperately, pushing love and understanding onto him while Erik’s mind screamed out in protest. _You’re wrong. You’re a liar. I’m alone, I don’t have a home, my parents are gone._  
  
 _I know what it feels like to lose someone,_ the old man’s voice said softly, catching him off guard as a sudden feeling of loss leaked in with the other emotions. Out loud, the man said, “You’re not alone, Erik, you’re not alone.”  
  
Yet here he was, the soon-to-be head of the family. Talking quietly with his head bent low, looking like a broken man. And with the Ninth Boss in bed, looking his age for the first time since Erik had known him, he felt utterly alone.  
  
“Today was a close call,” came a voice beside him. Erik didn’t turn to look at Logan as the other man took his position on the opposite side of the door way. Logan’s keen eyes weren’t watching the occupants of the room -- instead they trained on the young hitman.  
  
Erik gritted his teeth at the memory. At the boss’ too-still form, his pulse barely beating when Erik had checked. Doctors had rushed in, pushing him aside, making him feel unwelcome in the room. He’d dug in his heels until Logan had come in and physically dragged him away. He was still a little resentful of that fact. But Logan was his mentor, the man who had physically trained him. The man had been with the Xavier family longer then anyone else, with his mutation that prevented him from aging. He was the perfect hitman -- or X-man, as men working for the Xavier family were known to other _mafiosi_.  
  
If anyone felt anything about Charles Xavier’s presence, it would be Logan.  He had been the heir’s personal body guard for the past six years.  
  
Erik tried not to let his tension from Logan’s statement show as he answered, “Yeah it was.” The other man had sniffed the air dismissively at him and stepped into the room. Coming up right behind the young scholar and placing a massive hand on the boy’s shoulder.  
  
Charles had jumped in surprise, looked up at the man standing behind him and visibly relaxed, “Logan…”  
  
“How ya doing, bub?” asked the Ninth’s guard, though Erik wasn’t sure which Xavier the question was directed to.  
  
Charles shook his head quietly while his grandfather laughed from the bed. “I’ve seen better  days, but I’m fine,” answered the old man. There was a beat and then, “Erik, is that you sulking in the doorway?”  
  
He didn’t need to ask. The head of the Xavier family obvious knew it was him; the man was one of the most powerful telepaths in the world after all, and could probably pinpoint Erik’s location without using even a fraction of his power. Nonetheless Erik stood straighter and took a step into the room. “Yes sir.”  
  
“Come here please…”  
  
He obeyed, coming to Logan’s side, effectively putting the other guard between himself and Charles. He wasn’t sure if he could stand being at the younger man’s side just yet. There would plenty of that in the future – that was for sure.  
The Ninth may have caught that fleeting thought, for the man’s brows narrowed just slightly. Enough that Erik noticed. “I’m sorry I worried you.”  
  
“You didn’t worry me,” Erik answered easily, though they both knew it was a lie.  
  
“That aside, this incident has proven something to me. I’m too old to be head of the house anymore. I am officially retiring.”  
  
The entire room went deafeningly quiet. Surprisingly it was Charles who found his voice first, no matter how small it sounded. “So that means I…”  
  
“You’ll be the Tenth Boss of the Xavier family starting tomorrow. I’m sorry it’s so sudden, Charles.” The man sounded genuinely sorry. Considering that he’d sent his grandson off to school and handed him the facade of a normal life, it was clear that he wished things could have been different.  
  
Charles swallowed and shook his head. Saying nothing. “Logan,” the Ninth continued, looking at the two hitmen at the foot of his bed, “take care of him.”  
  
“Always have, that ain’t changing anytime soon,” was the gruff reply.  
  
And then the boss’s tired blue eyes focused on Erik and the man sighed, “Erik…”  
  
“Yes, sir.” His entire body stiffened, as it always did when addressed directly by the legendary boss of the Xavier family. The man was a legend, he was god - Erik would do anything for him.  
  
“I want you to personally guard Charles. Guard him with your life.”  
  
But that request was almost too much.  
  
Erik tried not to let it show on his face, not to let it show in his mind - he was surrounded by two telepaths after all. But he could feel the ache in his jaw from grinding his teeth so thoroughly, feel the skin stretch around his eyes and in his throat while struggling for control as he said, very slowly, “Of course, sir.”  
  
And the Ninth had smiled at him as if that answer had been good enough.  
  
\---  
  
“So how was Paris?”  
  
Charles’ voice was chipper, even though Erik knew he his heart wasn’t necessarily behind the question. Charles didn’t want to know about the man he had to kill or the numerous bodyguards he probably put in the hospital trying to get to that man. Charles might be the head of the family but over the years Erik learned to censor what he said as far as his latest missions were concerned.  
  
“It was fine, raining the entire time I was there.”  
  
“Did you meet up with Remy?”  
  
Remy Lebeau was their contact, normally stationed in France. He checked in on the families the Xaviers had alliances and dealings with. He also informed them if someone was stepping out of line. The latter issue was what Remy had called Erik in for.  
  
“We talked on the phone but not in person,” he answered and Charles nodded in understanding beside him.  
  
Sometimes Erik was taken aback by Charles’ astute observation of the world they live in. Even though it had been months since the last time the smaller man had been out on the field, probably longer since he hadn’t done much else but diplomatic meetings, Charles still had the intense training that had been drilled into him since the day he was announced heir. “Did you bring me back a present?”  
  
“Isn’t my presence back in America present enough?” A laugh ripped out of Erik’s throat and he dared to give his charge a look that said a little too much.  
  
In answer Charles’ face turned a delightful shade of pink and an elbow gently nudged Erik’s side. Charles looked as if he had a retort on the tip of his tongue when a shout echoed down the hallway.  
  
“Yo, it’s Professor X!” a beat and then, “Woah, is that Magneto with you?”    
  
Erik’s face immediately schooled itself back into its usually stiff scowl as Sean approached them, waving his hands madly in the air as if they would miss sight of him if he didn’t.  
  
There were a lot of things Erik didn’t like about Sean.  The fact that he was still a child ranked highly among them, right next to the fact that he was a troubled pot head, which was directly below the memory that Sean had helped Charles’ second in command Raven pick out “code names” for the newest X-men.  
  
Erik had been designated Magneto, and if Raven was feeling practically childish, she’d add “Master of Magnetism”, complete with flailing hands.  
  
He preferred Raven over Sean though; too bad she was in Germany doing recon.  
  
Charles smiled at the red head, “Good afternoon, Sean.”  
  
“Nice to see you out of the office for once, Prof,” Sean beamed, tucking his hands in his pockets in a casual gesture. “Where are you two heading?”  
  
His voice definitely held a suggestive tone to it as he asked the question, causing Erik to snort as he answered, “Sparring room.”  
  
“Oh?” the smile on Sean’s face wavered. “Well you should be warned Alex and Darwin are in there right now. They just double teamed the shit out of me. Mother fuckers.”  
  
“Language, Sean,” Charles chided softly, always the proper Englishman. At the same time Erik sighed, “Is that supposed to dissuade us?”  
  
Now that Erik looked at the kid’s face, though, he saw the bruise about to blossom on Sean’s pale cheek. There was also the way he was leaning more on his left leg and gingerly cupping his arm. He had personally trained Sean, Darwin, and Alex when Charles had first welcomed them to the team. He knew the damage the boys could do by themselves. When one teamed up with another they were especially deadly, though most of the time that meant Sean was the one being teamed up on.  
  
Oh well, it made the kid a little tougher.  
  
Sean held up his arms in a surrendering gesture, “Alright man, it’s your choice. Give Alex a good punch in the gut for me.” He laughed while inching past the duo. “I’ll see you two later then?”  
  
“Goodbye Sean,” Charles waved a hand while Erik remained quietly stoic. Sean’s feet padded quietly against the carpet as he headed towards the kitchen.  
  
The sparring room was just one of the many training facilities that had been added to the Westchester manor in recent years. There was a gym and a pool located next to the garden on the south end, a gun range at the far end of the estate, and a special bunker designed by Charles’ father in the basement which they used to practice their mutant abilities. The sparring room was just another padded gym, with plenty of room to run around but not the proper reinforcements for a test of their real abilities.  
  
Erik preferred the sparring room, because it allowed his muscles and combative skills to do all the talking.  
  
When they entered, Alex and Darwin were taking a water break. The sound of the door slamming shut jogged the two out of their breathless discussion. Darwin greeted his usual way, open and friendly, while Alex held himself back.  
  
“We ran into Sean on the way here, he told us you two used him as a practice dummy.” Charles sounded like a scolding father, but his face read pure amusement.  
  
Alex shrugged, “You wanna take his place, boss? We could use an actual workout after whipping the floor with Banshee.”  
  
“Well then it’s a good thing we came when we did.” Erik said, glancing over at Charles who was already undoing his tie. “Charles here has been locked in the office all day. And I just got off a plane from France.”  
  
“Which means he’s kind of test,” Charles added helpfully.  
  
Darwin wiped the sweat from his brow as he eyed them. Erik was already making his way onto the mat, limbering up. “Are you two going to spar wearing that?” He looked at Erik’s sharp grey suit just as the hitman began to shrug out of the coat.  
  
Blue grey eyes met the inquisitive stare, “Sometimes you don’t get to pick what you’re wearing when attacked, Muñoz.”  
  
Darwin shrugged, not willing to argue with his mentor over the issue. Alex pulled his water bottle away from his lips with a wet pop and said, “It’s your funeral. I just feel bad for that sweet Italian silk Charles is wearing.”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry about me!” laughed Charles, taking off his own coat jacket and tucking his tie into the pocket of his trousers. No doubt to be used as leverage if the opportunity presented itself, “I have everything completely under control.”  
  
Charles took his place by Erik’s side, rising his arms high above his head as he loosened those muscles. Darwin and Alex moved to take their places on the mat as well. “No powers!” Alex called across the open area.  
  
“Don’t need them,” Charles called back with a meaningful glance in Erik’s direction. His large smile was in place and though it was a nice picture Erik jerked his head to remind the brunet to keep his eyes on the enemy.  
  
“Ready?” Charles asked, eyes still trained on him.  
  
“Of course boss,” Erik answered, and his body was moving before the last words even left his lips.  
  
\---  
  
His opinion of young Charles Xavier hadn’t changed for months after their first meeting, even though Erik had truly tried to make the effort. However, he found the boy and his idealistic fantasies on life nauseating.  
  
“The Mafia has become nothing but thugs and mass murderers,” Charles was saying, leaning against the stone balcony that adorned the back of the English estate. “Killing isn’t always an option. It’s just become a bid for power. It’s becoming a race -- the family with the most kills will be the most powerful.”  
  
He’d been prattling on about the subject for nearly forty minutes. Erik could barely remember what brought it on. Maybe it had been his own musings on wishing to join the field. Ten years of training with Logan and he had never been out of the country, never on a real mission, unaccompanied. Or maybe it had been the latest news from the allied Frost family who had destroyed an entire small-class mafia for personal reasons.  
  
Erik scoffed from where he stood next to Charles, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the railing where Charles’ arms were propped up. “Surely you’re joking, Charles. Killing is all Mafia leaders know. It’s all hitmen know. Like it or not, it’s the world you live in.”  
  
“But don’t they teach you how to subdue?” Charles asked, clearly interested in the stimulating conversation, and the fact that Erik was giving his input. “If we could only keep control using pacifist methods-“  
  
“Pacifist,” Erik couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice when he said it. And there was a twinge of pride in the hurt that flashed in Charles eyes. “You’re kidding yourself if you really think that.”  
  
“But I do, Erik.” Charles didn’t give up. He stood straighter, as if doing so gave him a little more authority in the matter. “There are other ways. We say we have alliances, but that doesn’t stop one family from stabbing another in the back somehow. This whole system has become a question of who is the biggest bully on the playground.”  
  
“And why do you care? Your family is the biggest. They’ve owned the playground for generations,” Erik snapped, watching Charles closely for a reaction.  
  
The smaller man took a slow deep breath, “And that is why I think the Xavier family needs to be the example, not another bully. Don’t you think-“  
  
“No, Charles.” He had lost his patience with the conversation. He could handle a lot of things, but what Charles was saying went against everything Erik had told himself since Logan took him under his wing. That it was a kill-or-be-killed kind of world. He needed to be the best if he wanted to survive, needed to hang on to his killing instincts - his anger - if he ever wished to find his parents’ killer.  
  
If he found that man, he would never just subdue him. He would never leave an assassin alive to go out and kill another day.  
  
Never never never never-never-never-never.  
  
He remembered Charles calling out his name in dismay as he stormed away. He remembered pacing the halls of the Xavier mansion like an angry tiger, people practically jumping out of his way when he stalked by. It took thirty minutes before he found where he wanted to be. The one placed that calmed him.  
  
The Ninth welcomed him with a small smile from his bed. It had been nearly a month since the man had almost died; he looked better, but it was clear that his days of roaming the house - even in his wheelchair - were over.  
  
It said something that Erik felt a little bit of remorse when he unloaded on the man - the man who was technically his boss – about his own grandson. However, the older man had just sat quietly and listened. Patient and understanding as always, which did little to ease Erik’s jittery anger.  
  
“Are you sure you want him to take over for you? He’s nothing like you!” He was nothing like any Mafia boss Erik had ever met. But he didn’t say that part.  
  
He didn’t have too.  
  
The light touch from the Ninth Boss’ hand on his own quickly shut Erik up. “Oh Erik,” he said in the same tone he had used when Erik was a child. “I know Charles isn’t like me -- I’m so glad he isn’t.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“Erik, don’t you see? It’s because he _is_ different from everyone else that he is perfect for the job.”  
  
\---  
  
Alex let out a gurgled half gasp as Charles turned his arm at an extreme angle and flipped the blond over his shoulder with skilled ease. It was easy for him to go in for the kill after that, pinning Alex to the ground with one knee and leveraging his body weight to choke him out. The younger man fought for a couple seconds before tapping out of the fight.  
  
Erik watched the end of the fight out of the corner of his eye before lifting an arm to block a right hook from Darwin. Alex was easy; he had a lot of potential but was still green as far as hand-to-hand combat went. When he didn’t have his powers or another person to play off of, he was subpar at best. Darwin, though, had been training for nearly ten years, four of those years under Erik’s own supervision.  
  
Erik could win with his strength alone, but in situations like this he liked to test his pupil’s concentration. “Your partner just tapped out.”  
  
“I saw that,” Darwin answered, eyes trained on Erik as he threw another punch. Erik didn’t hesitate, merely side stepped and grabbed the arm as it extended. He watched in quiet pleasure as Darwin’s dark brows knit together worriedly, and then yanked him forward.  
  
It was a old trick: as Darwin lost his footing Erik worked his own leg underneath him and flipped his body to the ground. His hold on Darwin’s arm didn’t loosen as the other man fell to the ground. “Tap out or I break your arm.”  
  
Darwin huffed into the mat and smacked his hand loudly against the floor. “Happy?”  
  
“Very,” Erik smirked and let go of the arm. Darwin was quick picking himself up, a trait Erik had drilled into him over the years. There was a spot of sweat from where Darwin had lain on the ground. It was their third match; the first Charles and Erik had won while the second ended in a draw.  
  
His own shirt was soaked through with sweat. A discomfort like that rarely did anything for Erik, but the next thing he knew Charles was by his side, arm lightly brushing his bare arm in an agonizingly seductive way. He couldn’t help but look over at the smaller man.  
  
As usual, Charles face was bright red from the exertion of training. His long brown locks were damp with sweat, and his blue eyes were still wide and wild from the excitement. Erik’s eyes closely examined the way his chest was rising and falling in heaving breathes.  
  
Maybe Charles _was_ getting a little bit out of shape.  
  
“Would you two like another round?” prompted the bright British accent, clear as bells even through his panting.  
  
Darwin’s eyes darted to where Alex was getting another gulp of water before he shook his head. “No, I think we’re done for the day. Thanks for the offer, though.”  
  
Charles nodded but pushed no further. Erik gave him a quick side ways look before turning back to his pupil. “I’m back for a couple weeks, we’re going to start the normal training schedule tomorrow. Make sure the others know.”  
  
“You got it, boss,” Darwin gave him a lazy two-finger salute while Alex moaned loudly from the back of the room.  
  
“Shit, man, we gotta do this tomorrow?”  
  
“He won’t have Professor X with him tomorrow,” Darwin called back to the blond, wiggling his brows in Erik’s direction as he spoke. “We can team up him then.”  
  
Charles laughed, a soft musical sound that never failed to bring a smile to Erik’s lips. “Right well, don’t beat up on him too much. I need my right-hand man.”  
  
“Or else he’ll just have his right hand,” Alex called back, followed by an even louder and drawn out, “Oh!”  
  
Erik moved to glare at the boy but the sound of the door slamming shut announced Alex’s departure loud enough. Darwin made an apologetic face but said, “Best get while the getting is good. I’ll tell everyone what you said boss,” before darting away.  
  
Still, a growl made its way up Erik’s throat. “I’m going to beat that little snot into the ground tomorrow.”  
  
“Oh Erik,” Charles sighed by his side, using those words, the words that made him sound just like his grandfather, and calmed Erik down almost immediately. His small hand began drawing circles onto the skin of Erik’s forearm. Slow and lazy in their movements. “He’s just a kid.”  
  
“Then you shouldn’t have made that kid a fucking body guard.”  
  
Charles’ slender body pressed against his side quietly, while Erik allowed him to continue stroking him. When he felt the eager touch of lips against the base of his neck he forgot his threat on Alex’s life and moaned.  
  
“Charles…”  
  
“You look so good in your suit pants and shirt. Even sweaty…” Charles’ warm breath, hot and lustily low, tingled his skin. The body pressed more eagerly against him. The small hand that had been tracing shapes reached down to Erik’s hips, looking for any sign of bare skin.  
  
“Charles,” he tried again, “We can’t… in here.”  
  
“Of course we can,” Charles replied simply. “I’m the boss and I say we can.”  
  
“Just like that time in your office?”  
  
“Yes, of course.” And Charles went back to licking at his collar bone like a kitten, distracting Erik from the memory of how upset Raven and Angel had been to walk in on them.  
  
Then the licking stopped, and Erik felt the weight of Charles’ head pressed against the crook of his neck. “I’ve missed you…” said the smaller man, almost too quietly for Erik to hear, but he caught the words.  
  
Erik reached up and cupped the back of his lover’s neck tenderly. Leaning over to kiss the tangled brown hair that tickled under his nose. “I know, I missed you too.”  
  
“Then show me,” the desperation in Charles’ voice was only punctuated by a shudder that shook both of their bodies.  “Please Erik, show me.”  
  
With one last fleeting look at the gym doors in which Erik’s power assured him would not be budging any time soon, he swooped down and caught Charles’ mouth in a hungry kiss.  
  
The telepath responded in kind even as they fell to the floor.  
  
\---  
  
After speaking with the Ninth, Erik was resolved to find Charles again and - well he didn’t have a plan exactly, just knew that he couldn’t leave the kid alone for very long.  
  
The southern balcony where he had last seen Charles was empty, though. Erik frowned and checked the greenhouse nearby, then jogged back into the building to look into the study, Charles’ bed room, and the library. The kid’s favorite hiding places.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Logan caught sight of him pacing around the house and raised a brow while chomping on the tip of a cigar. Erik growled in response and left the building all together. Vowing that he didn’t give a damn where the smarmy brunet mafia boss was, and that he would not continue the search for him.  
  
What Erik needed was to blow off steam, and since he wasn’t going to prowl around the Estate’s hallways with Logan giving him that level stare, he couldn’t seek solitude in the numerous workout facilities. Which left one place.  
  
The gun range was one of the more popular establishments on the Xavier grounds. There was always someone there, trying to perfect their shot. The armory there was legendary, holding machines that ranged from military issue to the most basic hand guns. It even held different degrees of dynamite and a crossbow.  
  
Surrounded by all the metal made Erik feel at home. He didn’t usually use the range to practice his shot - his powers already made that an easy task to perfect. He did use the area to hone his metal bending, however. This meant that whenever he arrived at the Xavier Gun Range all other people were expected to take their leave.  
  
So when he arrived at the range and found the place already cleared out he was mildly surprised. The surprised switched to genuine shock when he walked onto the outside course and saw the reason for absence.  
  
Charles-freaking-Xavier was there, and the 9mm shots he was firing off were actually… very good.  
  
Erik didn’t say anything. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he stood and waited for the round to end. It didn’t take long. Charles fired nine fluid shots, then reloaded and fired nine more. His movements were expert and quick, and his aim was just as good. Erik could feel the bullets soar threw the air and puncture the paper target down range.  
  
After the second round, Charles shoulders relaxed, falling just slightly as he released a deep breathe. “I know you’re there.”  
  
Erik didn’t flinch at the toneless greeting. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped forward. “I just thought I’d let you finish up.” Charles put the gun down on the railing in front of him then turned to face Erik. He looked slightly exasperated, as if he should be annoyed at Erik rather than the other way around. Quickly, he snuffed out the feeling of annoyance that tightened in his chest and focused on driving the conversation forward. “You have a good shot.”  
  
“I am an Xavier you know,” Charles said like Erik had missed the fact. “I’ve had training since I was twelve.”  
  
“Why twelve?” Erik continued, strolling up closer to where Charles stood.  He had started his own training at the tender age of eight, given no time to adjust to the new home with new rules before being introduced to Logan, who promptly kicked the shit out of him.  
  
He waited and watched Charles’ eyes darted away. Looking intensely down at his shoes as he answered, “because that is when my mother died.”  
  
“Oh…” He knew that pain, what it was like to lose one’s parents. In that respect, he and Charles were both kindred -- they were both orphans. He knew from Logan and the Ninth’s other body guard, Ororo, that Charles’ father Francis had been the Ninth’s only son. He’d died in a car crash when Charles was just two.  
  
Francis had been his father’s son in almost every way except one. He was an Empath rather then a Telepath, and while it broke the Ninth’s heart because of that his son had been written out of the family business. Tradition was something the Mutant Mafia families lived and died by. The Xavier family represented generations of powerful Telepaths; there was no room for an Empath in the line. When Charles had been born there was hope. There had been visits and planning for the future heir, but then the car accident happened and the mother got custody of Charles and refused the Ninth visitation. The mafia boss had many lines he would cross, but tearing a mother from her child was not one of them.  
  
Luckily (or unluckily, if you wanted to be proper), Sharon had died a couple years later, and Charles was reunited with his grandfather and the family business.  
  
“I know you hate me. That you think I’m worthless,” Charles’ voice sounded so dry, exhausted even. He still hadn’t lifted his eyes from the ground and Erik couldn’t help but feel awkward. He kicked the ground aimlessly, wanting to deny the words coming out of Charles’ mouth, but the brunet was still talking. “And maybe you’re right, I can’t do this…”  
  
“I never said that,” Erik said, finding the first words that came to mind. Charles eyes shot up, wide and questioning, and Erik realized he needed to say something more. “Your… grandfather seems to have a lot of faith in you. So do I... I guess.”  
  
The words sounded lame and meaningless. He’d never stumbled over words before, but then again he’d never tried to reassure another person before, either. Charles was quiet and Erik wanted to scream at him, demand that he give a reaction in return, but when his own grey eyes fixed on Charles he saw it. A wide open-mouthed grin that took his breath away.  
  
Charles was pleased with him, and Erik didn’t even know how he did it.  
  
\---  
  
They managed to pick themselves off the sticky ground and stalk off to the bedroom with their dignity intact. Though Charles worried about the next person who was bound to go into the room, and what they would find there. White stains on the bright blue mats, a discarded suit jacket of Erik’s, and Charles’ Italian leather shoes. Erik quickly chased away those worries with a thorough kiss before they pushed their way into Charles’ bed room.  
  
It was the second biggest room in the building, and more like a studio than an actual room. There was a living area, a secluded bedroom, master bathroom, and even a little kitchen nook. All expensive tiles and stainless steel giving the room a sleek look. Charles had asked Erik’s opinion when redesigning it, giving the room a flair that suited both men. The metal railing on the king-sized bed was personally Erik’s favorite item in the room, but it had been Charles who picked it out.  
  
“I’m going to take a shower, you’re welcome to join me.” Charles announced to the room as he began to strip what was left of his suit. Sweat-stained and rumpled, he discarded the clothing onto the ground with little ceremony.  
  
Erik closed and locked the door behind them without the use of his hands. “I think I’ll pass. Showers with you usually turn into an hour-long affair.”  
  
“I suppose,” Charles sighed, trying to sound as disappointed as possible, but he had difficulty sounding convincing when he was busy dancing out of his pants. Erik’s eyes watched in amusement. “We do have to discuss business sometime this evening, yes?”  
  
“I suppose,” Erik answered, imitating Charles’ words as well as he could. A shirt was thrown in his direction at the tone.  
  
“I’m serious Erik, we have that meeting with Sebastian Shaw in Germany on Sunday.”  
  
Erik scowled at the reminder, moving towards the kitchen to search for the bottle of scotch he was sure Charles had tucked away in the cupboards. He couldn’t help but mutter under his breath as he did so, “I fucking hate that guy.”  
  
“Yes, I know, dear,” came Charles’ voice, still in the living room though Erik was sure he was probably stripped down to his boxers. “He’s not my favorite person, but Emma says we need to keep an eye on him.”  
  
“I’ve been telling you that for years,” Erik replied, with a hint of irritation in his voice.  
  
Soft laughter echoed from the bathroom this time, “Yes but to be fair, you say that about almost everyone.  You can be quite paranoid.”  
  
The sound of running water followed the statement. Erik snorted but said nothing else, assuming Charles had stepped into the shower and the conversation was over. He had just found the scotch and began digging out two glasses when Charles voice called back into the room, “Are you sure you don’t want to join me?”  
  
Looking up, Erik could see the bathroom door still open, light steam and the pounding sound of water coming from it, but in the doorway Charles’ head was peeking out, a look of gentle seduction on the other man’s face. Erik could see the pale skin on his neck and collar bone. The hinting of nudity and that smile, he tried to stand his ground, he really did, but then…  
  
“Don’t make me use the, ‘I miss you line’ again. It will get pretty old quickly I suspect.”  
  
“Oh I doubt that,” Erik stated, capping the lid on the scotch and making his way over towards the bathroom.  
  
\---  
  
The day Charles proved himself to Erik will be forever etched into the hitman’s mind.  
  
It was officially six months after the Ninth Xavier Boss announced his retirement. In those six months the entire family had been busy trying to prepare for the ceremony that would follow. A party to celebrate both the old and new. The Ninth still had to do the proper paper work and Charles had his own preparations to make.  
  
The new boss needed to create his own team of X-men, and Erik (as right-hand man) had been assigned to help him pick the team. Though that didn’t stop the young idealistic telepath from choosing a bunch of children.  
  
Children with great potential, Erik would admit, but children none the less. That had been headache number one on Erik’s list.  
  
Headache number two had been training the new team for the upcoming ceremony. Which proved to be a full time job since none of the teens had ever held a gun before, or handled intense security gigs. Alex still barely knew how to handle his mutation, Hank was trying to understand his animalistic instincts, and Sean needed to be weaned off of weed for a couple months before he was usable. The only half-useful member had been Charles’ friend Raven, a shape-shifter, but even she was too green for the field.  
  
None of them would be ready for the party, which meant all of the security would fall on Erik’s shoulders.  
  
All this on top of the fact that Charles’ naivety about inheriting the position as head of the family put him in a very poor mood the night of the ceremony. It was on the Xavier family’s personal cruise ship: nearly two hundred bedrooms, a ballroom, two pools, and a full-sized basketball court made the ship one of the grandest of the Xavier’s items, only to be used on special occasions.  
  
And today was a special occasion.  
  
The closest friends of the Xavier’s were there, the biggest _mafiosi_ were in attendance, and even the Ninth had gotten out of bed and was chatting away from his wheelchair.  
  
Charles stood by Erik’s side, looking uncomfortable in his new tailor-made suit. When people weren’t coming up to give him their congratulations, he fidgeted with his cuffs and tried to make small talk with Erik. Like he always did.  
  
“How long do you suppose this will last?”  
  
“Until 1900, then dinner will be served.”  
  
“That’s pretty late for dinner don’t you think?”  
  
Erik hummed in disinterest and kept his eyes trained on the people around them.  
  
Charles sighed, “Are you going to stay glued to my side like this the entire evening?”  
  
“I don’t really have a choice considering the rest of your X-men are still trying to learn the difference between a pistol and a laser tag gun.”  
  
Another unsatisfied sigh. “They really aren’t that bad. Plus, with you training them they’ll be lean, mean killing machines in no time, I’m sure.”  
  
Erik had to admit the vote of confidence felt nice, but he didn’t let it read on his face. He kept his lookout of the deck; it was packed full with people. He didn’t even recognize half of them, but Logan said that would change in a couple years. Staying by the side of the head of the Xavier family meant you made it your job to know every person they came in contact with.  
  
In the far distance he saw Emma Frost cozying up with the head of a smaller family, Sebastian Shaw. Elsewhere, the Ninth was laughing as one of his body guards, Ororo, leaned in to whisper something to him, and he knew Logan was lurking out the deck somewhere.  
  
Charles was still talking beside him, mumbling about how he would like more food and if Erik saw another waiter would he please wave the chap down, when Erik’s eyes made contact with a woman coming towards them. By all accounts she looked like just another beautiful social elite, sauntering up to give Charles words of greeting and encouragement. Erik didn’t feel any metal coming from her and he might have actually let her come within ten feet of his charge if Charles hadn’t grabbed his hand.  
  
“Something’s wrong,” the Englishman whispered to him, and at Erik’s questioning look he elaborated, “Her mind. She’s keeping it unusually blank.”  
  
It was enough for him. Erik raised his hand and was about to tell her to back the fuck off when the easy smile she had been wearing shifted into a intimidated frown. A spike splintered out of her skin in a flash, and was thrown in Charles direction. Naturally Erik reached out to the metal to stop the spike but there was nothing in it to grab onto. The railing on the ship groaned, but they wouldn’t do the job in time.  
  
Cursing under his breath, he did the next thing he could think of. His training kicked in as he put his body between the threat and Charles, his arm held up in a defensive position to brace for the impact.  
  
The spike embedded itself into his forearm, and Erik felt the swelling pain of bone piercing bone. _So her weapons were her own bones... useful,_ he thought, dizzy from pain. He readied himself for the next attack, but it was already on him. With lightning speed the woman dashed towards them, and while distracted by the shock of the bones splintering in his arm Erik had little time to prepare for the forceful punch she landed on his kidney. He gasped, feeling her small, needle-like fingers dig into his skin and push him away from Charles.  
  
A growl escaped him as he lashed out and kicked her in the abdomen. The force of the kick increased the speed of his fall backwards and the next thing Erik felt was the railing of the ship hit the small of his back.  
  
Then it was falling upwards - or he was falling backwards.  
  
There was a shout above him that sounded very much like Charles before the surface of the water pushed the air out of his lungs and muffled his hearing. Oddly enough, the water made him feel better; it distracted him from the pain in his arm, and brought about a strange sense of sincerity.    
  
Vaguely, he wondered if this was what it was like to die. He needed air, the thought nagged at him but his limbs wouldn’t work. He was sinking lower instead of going up to the surface.  
  
One arm was sluggishly trying to paddle his body up, but the rest of his body was flimsy and throwing off his swimming skills. Somewhere close by he heard something heavy fell into the water, although his ears were ringing with the growing pressure around him.  Then an arm was wrapping around his and was pulling him up to the surface.  
  
The slap of fresh air nearly sent him into shock as his lungs drank in the oxygen. His ears were still ringing but he could hear his savior screaming, “Erik! Erik are you okay?”  
  
Steel blue eyes blinked at the voice, he turned his head a couple times before he finally found...  
  
“Charles…” his voice sounded so raw, like it hadn’t been used in years.  
  
Despite looking like a wet rat, Charles smiled. His pristine suit was ruined and his eyes were a little bit too wide but he looked unharmed. “Erik.”  
  
“What - What happened?”  
  
“Well, you went over board and I went after you.” Charles’ large doe eyes blinked a couple times before something dawned in them. “Oh, and I subdued our assassin friend the moment you hit the railing. Don’t worry about her.”  
  
It took a moment for the information to process. All the while he was trying to tread water to stay above the surface but his aching arm made it difficult. Dimly he could still feel the weight of the woman’s bone etched into his own. Without a word Charles lent him a shoulder and begrudgingly Erik took it.  
  
He was in shock, though he couldn’t figure out what was the exact cause -- the near death experience, Charles actually stopping an assassination attempt, or the fact that the telepath had jumped in to rescue him after Erik had been nothing but unpleasant.  
  
A warm presence nudged at his mind, and he could hear the echo of Charles’ soft laughter. ‘ _Oh Erik…’_ the voice said, sounding so much like his grandfather while obviously skimming Erik’s thoughts.  
  
And he would be damned if those words didn’t make him feel light headed.  
  
\---  
  
The time they spent laying in bed together naked was when their quiet time. Usually Erik would be exhausted, and Charles would aimlessly trace the numerous thin scars that marred his lover’s skin. In the numerous years they’d been together he knew all twenty six of the scars and where they’d come from. When they first started sleeping together, there had only been twelve.  
  
Tonight though, Charles was the one who was tired. Weeks without Erik there to encourage him to leave the office meant he’d spent late nights looking over papers or on the phone with people whom Erik would deem - unimportant.  
  
Tonight, Erik was the one making quiet small talk, telling stories of his time in France while tracing Charles’ scars.  
  
The first time he’d met Charles he would have never guessed the privileged youth had ever met with hardship. The first time Charles took him to bed, he proved Erik wrong. He could still feel the shock when he’d seen the smaller man’s bare chest and the slicing scars that decorated it.  
  
It was a dark time, something only three people in the world probably knew. The Ninth, Logan, and now Erik.  
  
Charles was the one who told him, _Scars are a necessity in this line of business,_ which Erik couldn’t help but agree with, but for him, not for Charles. Erik had thought it would make him feel better, knowing Charles could handle a gun, wouldn’t cave under pressure, and that he had earned his stripes, but it didn’t. Seeing the markings on his lover’s pale skin only made his stomach churn.  
  
 _A boss also needs love though_ , Charles had said, leaning up to peck Erik on the chin, _to keep him going._  
  
At least Erik could say that in the time he had been by Charles’ side, the younger man hadn’t gotten another scratch. His finger followed the path of a particularly nasty scar that ran down Charles’ ribs. His lover hummed happily, slipping in and out of sleep while Erik remained alert. “How did I not believe in you when I first met you?”  
  
Charles moaned a bit - not a sensual sound, just one that meant he was coming back awake. “Believe it or not love, you weren’t the first.”  
  
“I love you,” Erik blurted out suddenly.  
  
There was just a pause for an answer but he didn’t worry. It wasn’t the first time he’d uttered the words to Charles, and it wouldn’t be the last.  
  
A lazy, loving smile crossed Charles’ lush red lips as he closing his eyes, “Love you too.”  
  
Then Charles fitfully fell asleep, and Erik stayed awake a little while longer to watch over him.  
  
\---  
  
It was three months after the boating incident when Erik finally – finally - realized that Charles was special and that he wanted to kiss him.  
  
Of course, it happened at the worst possible time.  
  
It was in Italy, Raven and Alex’s first time in the field. There was a slight threat from one of the Italian families that had dealings in America and didn’t like the Xaviers’ power. They had business, though, a meeting in Florence with Emma Frost - whose second home was in Italy - then there was the gala in Rome Charles was expected to attend.  
  
They had kept the convoy number to two, only one limo for Charles and Erik and a sleek black car for Raven, Alex, and a few extra gunmen. Charles had been in the middle of giving an exasperated speech about limos and guns when the first explosion went off a few feet in front of them.  
  
A second took out the entire side of a building behind them, and despite Charles’ protests they all knew it was time to fight.  
  
Huddled behind one of the cars Erik gritted his teeth and stretched his powers out to the weapons around them. There were numerous guns, more then the total people he suspected, but couldn’t be sure. Beside him Charles had lifted his fingers to his temple and took a deep breath.  
  
“How many?”  
  
“About fifteen…”  
  
“And what do they want?” It was a stupid question but Erik needed as much intel as he could get.  
  
Charles licked his lips. “My head on a platter it seems, yours too if they can manage.” Then he smiled, that bright blinding smile that did not belong in the middle of a gun battle. “Let’s not give them the pleasure.”  
  
And it was ridiculous really, that he could hear Alex’s laser blasting away and Raven’s gun going off one round after another. He felt every car in the area, every bullet flying through the air, even the knife tucked away against Charles’ ankle sang to him. It was a war zone, all out battle between their family and another, and yet here was Charles smiling and not panicking and Erik couldn’t help it - he leaned in and kissed his boss.  
  
He meant it to be a quick peck and then he would run out into the line of battle like the coward he was. But Charles had opened up to him, nibbling on his lower lip without hesitation and using his tongue to deepen the kiss to a level that made Erik see stars.  
  
Then Charles had pulled away and Erik was the one blinking dumbly. Charles’ fingers twitched from where they still touched his forehead, “We’ll have to pick this up another time, there’s a man coming around the back, darling.”  
  
Suddenly Erik remembered where he was - he reached out with his powers, felt the man and his AK47. His instincts kicked in again like an adrenaline rush. “Later,” he said rather then asked, and when Charles nodded his heart soared. “Let’s get him, boss.”  
  
From there on out it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.  
  
  
  
  



End file.
